


FEBRUARY FIFTEENTH

by Last_Chance_Anna



Series: STAY [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: All The Love, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Belated Valentine's Day, Canon went out the window a while ago, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hugs, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kisses, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Slice of Life, Valentine's Day, well...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Last_Chance_Anna/pseuds/Last_Chance_Anna
Summary: Just a little belated Valentine's Day fluff based on something my friend said about why she and her husband don't really celebrate Valentine's Day. I thought it was a lovely sentiment, and this story sprung from that.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: STAY [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543645
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	FEBRUARY FIFTEENTH

**Author's Note:**

> A little pause on my ongoing story to bring you this little dab of fluff. I'm thinking of this as part of my STAY series, but I've kept the details vague enough that it can definitely be read as a stand-alone story. All you need to know is what the tags say. If you are reading this as part of STAY, it's probably around the mid-point.

It had rained all morning. 

It had been raining when Steve woke up ten minutes before his alarm, just like always. Raining when he rolled onto his side and looked toward the window, listening to the patter of drops hitting the glass. Raining when he fit his body around Tony’s. Raining when he decided to just forget his run this morning and stay curled up in bed for a couple more hours. 

It was still raining when Tony woke up. Still raining when he squinted at the clock, saw it was eight-thirty, and laughed--quietly, in deference to super-soldier-hearing. Still raining when he snuggled back into those super-soldier arms and let himself drift again. He didn’t get morning cuddles very often, and he was _not_ passing up the opportunity to indulge himself.

They got up around ten. Steve started coffee and Tony fed the cat, picking him up and cooing to him for a while. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Jealousy is not a good color on you, soldier.”

Steve rolled his eyes again and opened the paper.

“Daddy’s grumpy again,” Tony told the cat. 

Steve held the paper in front of his face to hide his smile.

They ate breakfast, then did the dishes together. It was habit. Steve washed. Tony dried and put stuff away. They didn’t talk about it. They just did it. Afterward, Steve squeezed Tony around the waist and kissed his shoulder on his way into the bathroom to shower. Tony had another cup of coffee and checked his messages. There were a lot of them. He was only semi-retired, and that meant he still had to be semi-responsible. 

He groaned a little, but that was mostly habit too. He actually didn’t mind. 

He went down to the shop around one. Fury wanted schematics, Pepper wanted mock-ups, and expense reports, and run-downs on the Asian markets, and blahblahblah. Just another day. He made another pot of coffee. Steve wouldn’t like it--he didn’t mind the morning cup, but after that he frowned strenuously on coffee--but it would be mostly gone before Steve ever even knew about it. Tony didn’t think of it as _sneaky_ , he preferred to think of it as _stealthy_ . He was a _stealth_ coffee-addict.

Steve came down to the shop later. He had his laptop under his arm, a stack of books in his hands with a bowl of sliced fruit balanced on top. 

“Here,” he said, nodding to the bowl.

“Aww. For me?” 

“Yup. Eat,” he said, then scowled at the coffee cup half-hidden behind a small pile of scrap metal. “And no more coffee. There’s water in the fridge.”

“But-” 

“No. You’re done.”

“But, _Steve_ -”

“ _No._ You’re done.”

“ _Fine.”_

Steve smiled--that sweet, brilliant smile--and leaned slightly forward. Tony sighed and narrowed his eyes. Then he kissed him. He acted like it was with a great reluctance.

It wasn’t. 

Steve settled himself on the old black leather sofa against the wall. He spread his books on the coffee table, and situated his laptop directly in front of himself. He sat a couple of notebooks right next to the laptop, and laid three sharpened pencils on top of them. It had the air of ritual, and Tony, who stood watching, knew that was exactly what it was. Steve had always had his rituals. Going back to his Captain America days. They all had back then. Seeing Steve setting up his work station with such solemnity and formality tugged at Tony’s heart in a way nothing else did. Not that he wanted to go back to those days--he was happier now living this quiet life with Steve than he had ever thought he would be capable of--but the nostalgia was intense. The memories that nostalgia brought back, even more so.

Steve looked up from his task, catching Tony’s eyes. “Hey,” he said, brow furrowing. “You okay?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, baby,” he said quietly, almost horrified to realize he was close to tears. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Tony nodded again. “I’m sure.”

Steve frowned at him for a moment longer, then his brow smoothed out. “Okay."

“Got a lot of work to do?”

“Yeah.”

“Get to it, baby.”

Steve smiled again. God, it made him look so young. Like a kid just out of basic training. “Yes, sir,” he said, and snapped off a little salute. It made Tony smile. Made him feel like a kid again himself.

He went back to work, back to the stuff that made him feel older. That wasn’t such a bad thing. He didn’t have _this_ back when he was young. He’d had drugs. And drinks. And acquaintances who masqueraded as friends. He’d had random nights with random people. Three-ways, and four-ways, and every-way but the one way that counted. _This_ way. The way he had now with Steve. 

They didn’t talk much for a while. They worked on their own projects. Tony could hear Steve typing on his old laptop. Heard the scritch of his pencil on the legal pads he liked to use. The big yellow ones. They were the same kind Howard had always used too. Tony had gotten over being freaked out by that. He didn’t think of them that way anymore. He didn’t think of them as _Howard’s notebooks._ Now, if he thought of them at all, he thought of them as _Steve’s notebooks_. He didn’t realize how much better that made him feel. How free.

He was just sending off his last email to Fury when it hit him. 

“It’s February fifteenth.”

Steve didn’t look up. He was frowning over something on his computer. He typed some numbers into a calculator, frowned harder, then typed again. 

“Steve,” Tony said louder.

“Huh?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yup.”

Tony threw a grape at him.

“Hey!” Steve said, wiping grape juice off his forehead. “What the hell?” He plucked the grape out of his lap where it had landed and threw it back at Tony.

“I said, _Did you hear me_?”

“Oh. No. Sorry, Tony.” He gestured at the paperwork in front of him. The legal pads covered in a scrawl of numbers, either crossed-out or circled. The open books. The light from his laptop lit his face in a blue-white glow. “I just...I’m sorry. What did you say?”

Tony softened, but the troubled frown stayed on his lips. “I said it’s February fifteenth.”

Steve drew in a breath, then let it out. The side of his mouth lifted in his old, familiar half-smile. “God. I guess it is.” He shook his head. “Time goes fast, doesn’t it? Seems like it was just Christmas.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not getting my point, baby.”

“What point?”

Tony came to stand in front of him, pushing the coffee table back out of his reach with his foot.

“Hey,” Steve said faintly, pointing at it, but there was no anger behind it. No irritation. He was looking up at Tony now, his eyes painfully blue, filled to the brim with warmth, with love, and Tony thought fleetingly that he was glad Steve never tried to play poker. 

Tony put his hands on his shoulders. “February fifteenth,” he said again. “That makes yesterday February _four_ teenth.”

Realization dawned, and Steve’s face scrunched into a guilty little smile that Tony found utterly adorable. But, of course, he didn’t say that. “Oh,” Steve said. “Huh.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t even give you a blow-job last night.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Tony said, and Steve laughed in that soft way that always made Tony feel giddy, even after all this time. He moved his hands on Steve’s shoulders, rubbing them with tiny circles of his fingers. “Should we...do something? Go to dinner or something?” he asked doubtfully.

Steve lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I thought Miss Potts needed those expense reports and stuff by tomorrow?”

Tony sighed. “She does.”

“And Fury wanted blueprints for...something?”

“Yeah. For something.” He shook his head and eased down onto Steve’s lap. “There’s always something.”

Steve hooked his arm around Tony’s waist, pulling him against his chest. “And I’ve got that stupid budget for the shelter,” he said bitterly, gesturing again to the pile of papers on the table. “Trying to pull money out of politicians is like a dentist trying to pull somebody’s wisdom teeth out through their ass.”

Tony barked shocked laughter and ran his hand through Steve’s hair. “Wow. Okay. I’m definitely using that line next time the board gives me shit about money...which will probably be at the meeting on Friday. Which is why Pep needs expense reports tomorrow.” 

He sighed again. All those new-agey types might actually have something. Existence really might be a wheel. Things certainly did seem like they had a way of spinning back to the original point. Tony rested his head against Steve’s. “Guess we don’t really have time for a belated Valentine’s date, after all. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Steve said, giving him a squeeze. “Are you really worried about this?”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Steve inclined his head just enough to plant a kiss to Tony’s neck. “Don’t, okay? Don’t worry about this.”

“Aren’t _you_ worried about it?”

“No,” Steve said simply, and held Tony tighter. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Tony nodded without lifting his head...but he was already starting to feel better. “Yeah.”

“And you love me, right?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Duh.”

Steve smiled and rolled his eyes. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

Tony nodded again but this time, he lifted his head. He cupped the back of Steve’s neck, and brought their mouths together in a gentle, lingering kiss. “Okay,” he agreed. 

Steve buried his head in the crook of Tony’s shoulder and hugged him extra-tight. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Steve pulled back and looked up at Tony. That love still shone in his eyes. That same familiar warmth that Tony had grown so used to over the years. That steady, all-encompassing love. “Feel better?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Tony answered, running a finger along Steve’s sharp jawline.

“Good.” He kissed Tony one more time. Just a small one. Just enough. Just perfect. “Valentine’s Day always seemed like it was for people who have something to make up for,” he said. “And you and me?” Steve shrugged. “I don’t really think we have anything to make up for. It’s always here. It’s always right here.”

Tony hugged him impulsively--compulsively--as tight as he could. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.” He pulled out of Steve’s arms just enough to look at him with one eyebrow raised. “About that blow-job, though…”

“Don’t worry,” Steve said, his hand straying to the button of Tony’s jeans. “I’ve got you.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading! LOVES to you all!


End file.
